All I see is sissies in magazines smiling. . . Whatever happened to wildin' out and being violent? Whatever happened to catching a good, old-fashioned, passionate ass whoopin'? And getting your shoes, coat and your hat tooken?
To you your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it.